


Insolent

by doctor__idiot



Series: 12 Days of Wincestmas 2017 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M, Teasing, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: “You know,” Dean says, “This ain’t exactly what I had in mind when I said let’s watch Netflix and chill.”





	Insolent

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: 'Netflix & chill' + misunderstandings.

“You know,” Dean says, “This ain’t exactly what I had in mind when I said let’s watch Netflix and chill.”

Sam reaches for the packet of chips again, shoving a handful into his mouth. In between chewing, he says, “We’re not gonna watch _The Untouchables_ for the gazillionth time, Dean.”

Dean groans, plopping down on the bed. “Also not what I meant.”

Sam hides his grin behind his hand and the pretense of stuffing his mouth again. “It’s Christmas, Dean. Watching Christmas movies is a given. You always say so yourself.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean breaks off, huffing an annoyed breath. At his whiny tone, Sam actually has to turn his face away to hide his twitching mouth.

He gets himself under control, clearing his throat and nudging Dean’s calf with his socked foot. “You could get us some hot cocoa.”

Dean looks at him with a mix of bewilderment at Sam’s apparent ignorance and thinly veiled annoyance. “Like hell,” he protests and it’s really difficult to keep a straight face.

Once Sam is positive he isn’t going to burst out laughing at his brother’s pinched expression, he urges, “Please?”

Dean stares at him for a moment longer and for a split second Sam’s sure he can see right through him but then Dean gets up with a grumble and trots off to fill the electric kettle. “You know,” his voice filters over to where Sam is squished against the headboard, knees folded, “I hate you sometimes.”

Sam snorts, balling up the empty bag of chips and tossing it onto the floor.

Once Dean has returned with two steaming mugs and climbed back onto the bed, his side pressed against Sam’s, their knees knocking together, Sam thinks that this is actually really nice instead of just being a farce to annoy his big brother and be the cause for his blue balls.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Dean gives him a sideward glance and now Sam is fairly certain that he has caught on. There is some slight hesitation, then Dean rolls his eyes, patting Sam’s knee. He leaves his hand there. “We gotta talk about your lack of stamina when it comes to pranks, Sammy.”

 _Not a prank_ , Sam wants to say but instead he turns his head to the side, brings his mouth next to his brother’s ear. “I’ve been accused of a lot of things,” he says quietly, “but lack of stamina has never been one of them.”

The hard smack on his shoulder he gets from Dean for his efforts is totally worth the flush in Dean’s cheeks. Cackling, Sam slides down the headboard until he’s lying flat on the mattress, grinning up at his brother.

“Tease,” Dean accuses and he’s not wrong.

Sam holds out his hand and for a moment nothing happens. Then Dean places his mug on the nightstand and follows Sam’s example, wiggling until he can get comfortable on the bed. He’s dressed in sweats and a T-shirt that rides up his stomach with his movements. Sam turns onto his side and reaches out, catching Dean around the waist.

Dean makes an offended noise but lets himself be pulled in, palms two burning hot points on Sam’s biceps.

“I can’t believe you honestly thought I don’t know what ‘Netflix and chill’ means.”

Dean shrugs in his arms. His hair is soft without any product in it, moving messily against the pillow. “How should I know? You’re usually so innocent, Sammy-baby.”

Sam snorts, digs his fingers in Dean’s flanks until Dean loses his grin and starts squirming. He nudges his knee in between Dean’s legs. “I’ll show you innocent.”

Dean gives a breathless laugh. “We really gotta work on your dirty talk, Sam. Did I teach you nothing?”

“Never heard you complain before.”

Dean reaches up, tugs gently at a strand of Sam’s hair. There is a smirk in the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“I’m sure that’s it.” Sam nods, mock-serious, “Not because you were too busy moaning my name.”

Dean snorts, tugging a little harder at Sam’s hair until Sam grabs his wrist and pins it above his head. There is a slight hitch of breath, Dean’s pulse jumping against Sam’s fingers.

“Well?” Dean licks his lips. “What are you waiting for?”

“For you to stop being so annoyingly mouthy.”

Dean’s expression turns sly, a little defiant. He flexes his fingers against the hold, tendons moving against Sam’s palm. “When has that ever worked?”

Sam runs his free hand along the waistband of his brother’s sweatpants, teasing his fingertips inside. He can feel the gooseflesh pebbling Dean’s skin against his knuckles. Dean is watching his face, waiting for him to answer or to move forward, and Sam leans in, brushing his lips along Dean’s jaw, up to right below his mouth. Lips fall open slightly, Dean’s body twitching against Sam’s as Sam cups Dean’s hip, then slides his hand around to the small of his back, fingers stealing their way into Dean’s underwear.

Sam flicks his tongue out briefly against Dean’s lower lip, catching his brother’s quiet gasp in his mouth on a brief, soft kiss. Then he abruptly pulls back, lets go of Dean’s wrist and sits up. Grabs for his mug beside him. The chocolate has cooled slightly but it’s still delicious, even if he is paying more attention to Dean’s frozen surprise next to him.

Sam smiles into his mug, not speaking while Dean processes the situation, then sits up with an angry-sounding huff. He visibly adjusts his cock in his pants and Sam’s lips curl. On the screen, the credits start to roll. Netflix suggests _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ and Sam clicks on it and settles back in, waiting for the opening.

He can feel Dean’s eyes on him and by now it’s a challenge of who can stand the silence the longest.

In the end, it’s Dean who speaks first. “Sam,” he says, “Please.”

It’s quiet and somehow like that it has even more of an impact. Sam abandons his mug anew and turns to the side. He barely has time to take in Dean’s slightly rumpled state before he reaches for him, pulls him in by his shoulders and kisses him for all he is worth.

He tugs Dean on top of him and Dean sighs with relief and contentment. Then he mutters, “Hate you so much.”

Sam grins back. “I know.”


End file.
